Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Axel
The bed is cold on Enzo’s side. Which is ridiculous, because Enzo doesn’t have a side. He left after two episodes last night. It’s fine.
It makes sense he would sleep in the six-hundred-dollar room the Blizzards provides for him. Otherwise it would be a glorified closet, and six-hundred-dollars is too much to pay for nightly closet space.
But it still feels weird to wake up and not see him beside me, not have his face turn red when he sees me, not have his eyes momentarily bounce around my face and bare torso, before he pulls his gaze away, as if he thinks he’s not even permitted to look at me.
God, I should have had that discussion with him long ago.
I should have forced the issue.
I thought he was gay, and I know how shy he is, at least when he’s not whacking pucks into the net, and I should have told him what I thought and that it didn’t matter.
I shouldn’t have let secrets fester.
I regret that.
Because even though we’ve known each other for so long, even though we’re raising a child together, even though we’ve been sleeping and non-sleeping in the same bed, he still looked at me as if he was worried I might banish him.
I shower and make sure I’m all packed. I hurry to the elevator, then go to the breakfast room. Floor-to-ceiling windows pour hazy California light across the room.
If I’m lucky, Enzo will be here.
Unfortunately, this isn’t a lucky morning. I scan the room and spot myriad businessmen in suits, a few women in yoga gear, a table of obvious tourists studying their phones.
No dark curly hair. No umber eyes. No olive skin.
I go to the buffet table by myself. It’s the fancy kind, all gleaming silver chafing dishes and tiny handwritten labels. I pick up smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on fancy silver spoons. A chef in a tall white hat waits with a pan and prepares made-to-order omelettes.
Finn and Noah have claimed a table by the window. They stare into each other’s eyes and are acting like they’re on a Valentine’s Day date in the North End and a violinist is playing Italian 1950s music while red rose petals float down from the ceiling.
Evan and Vinnie have snagged another table, looking equally enraptured. I never realized how unhappy Vinnie was until I started seeing him with Evan. Now he radiates happiness, at least when he looks at Evan.
I pile my plate with protein and plop down at an empty table. I stare at a tiny succulent that sits in the center of the table.
What if Enzo still hasn’t arrived by the time I finish? Then I will have missed a whole meal with him.
I scowl.
“Can I sit here?”
I look up, and—it’s not Enzo.
A young Latino man gives me an awkward smile. He’s holding a plate piled with protein and what looks like every fruit the buffet offers. “Sorry, it’s pretty full.”
I blink at him, then recognition dawns. “You’re the new massage therapist. Mateo.”
He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I thought you would recognize me. I can sit somewhere else…”
“No, no.” I wave him back. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
Mateo joined at the same time as Enzo. Guess I was more focused on Enzo’s arrival.
Mateo slides into the chair across from me. His emerald eyeshadow shimmers.
“How do you like working for the Blizzards?”
“It’s amazing.”
I grin. “It totally is!”
“I never thought I would be working for a professional sports team,” he says, then catches himself, like he’s said too much.
I nod. I understand.
Coach gave us a pretty stern speech about respecting others before Mateo started, and I’m pretty sure Mateo isn’t straight. At least, I haven’t been around many straight guys who wear emerald eyeshadow at breakfast.
“I’m sure you’re qualified,” I say.
Mateo shrugs and spears a strawberry.
We chat some more—about the hotel, about the game tonight—and then I see dark curly hair by the entrance.
“Excuse me.” I leap up so fast my chair scrapes against the floor.
I hurry toward Enzo, weaving between tables and dodging a waiter with a coffee carafe. I slow my steps because, yeah, maybe you’re not supposed to run in a breakfast room where people are carrying platefuls of food and clutching hot drinks.
I aim for casual. “Hi Enz.”
“Hi.” He has that nervous look on his face, scanning the room before his gaze lands on Mateo. “You were talking?”
“Uh-huh. Sit with us.”
“I-I don’t want to disturb you.”
“You won’t.” I look around. The room has filled up. Every table is claimed. I spot an empty chair five tables over. “One moment.”
I weave back through the breakfast room, lift the chair, and carry it toward our table. A woman in designer sunglasses watches me over her latte and frowns.
I plonk the chair down next to mine. Mateo looks up, surprised.
I wave Enzo over. “Here you go, Enz.”
Enzo sits down.
“Enzo, have you met Mateo, the team’s new addition?”
Enzo smiles. “We did paperwork at the same time.”
Mateo nods.
“Enzo and I are best friends,” I declare. “We live together. We’re very close.”
Enzo’s jaw drops, but he smiles. “That’s right.”
“We have a child together,” I continue.
“Wow!” Mateo beams. “I didn’t realize you two were gay!”
I frown.
That’s not what I said. How did Mateo get that impression?
“That’s not correct,” I say hastily, and Enzo’s smile falters.
I inhale. Did I say something wrong?
Enzo is gay. He told me. But I can’t let Mateo think we’re a couple, can I? Enzo clearly doesn’t want to be out.
Except... he doesn’t look relieved. He looks—
His expression is unreadable.
Oh, God.
This is way too confusing.
“I apologize,” Mateo says quickly, and his skin is pinker than before. “I assumed.”
“Hey, it’s fine,” I say. “Lots of people on the team like dudes.”
Including me. I wince.
Mateo nods, but his skin is still pink, and my stomach tightens, like I’ve told a lie.
Which I guess I have.
Because the thing is…
I don’t mind any of the things I do with Enzo. In fact, I think they’re awesome. They make him feel good, and they make me feel good. If it didn’t make me feel good, I would be trying to set Enzo up with a guy awesome enough for Enzo.
I frown. Does that make me bisexual?
I think again about these women I met in New York, who were best friends but didn’t want to even try to be together in a way that included bedroom activities.
Huh.
Mateo and Enzo chat together. Does Enzo think that Mateo is cute?
I mean he is, right? So that just means Enzo has eyes which is something I want him to have.
I don’t want to wish not having eyes on anyone.
Not that he couldn’t make the best of things if he didn’t have eyes, and his ears would probably be amazing, but…
My mouth is sour, and I look down at my plate and wonder what I’ve eaten that’s caused it.
I’m relieved when Mateo finishes breakfast, and Enzo and I are alone.
“We have some free time before we have to head to the arena,” I say. “Do you want to see anything?”
“Actually I want to get some things from Gaby’s,” he says. “I know it’s not that exciting. But you should absolutely do some sightseeing.”
“Hey. That sounds nice,” I say. “Of course I’ll come.”
“I think some of the guys are going to check out the pier…”
“It’s fine, Enzo. Let’s go.”
He gives me a big smile.
That’s how we find ourselves at Gaby’s place in Manhattan Beach. Enzo still has the key, and we enter her cottage easily. There’s still a pair of sandals by the door.
Gaby’s place is great. Seaside cottages within walking distance of the coast are not cheap. The appliances are new. The countertops are marble. For a single mom, Gaby lived well. Enzo was able to give her a great life, just like his college-self had always said he’d wanted to do.
Enzo stands in the doorway for a moment, not moving.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods, but his jaw is tight. “I keep expecting her to walk out of the bedroom. I need to come back this summer and go through everything. I didn’t have a lot of time to pack—”
“And you were mourning and watching a two-year-old at the same time,” I say. “That’s difficult even at the best of times, and that was the worst.”
Enzo nods.
In the old days, I might have flown back to help him or at least spoken to him on the phone. He had to go through all that by himself. Why did he separate from me?
“Enzo, maybe we should talk…”
He stops mid-motion. “It’s fine, Axel. Really. I overreacted when I learned about… Well, you know.”
“Why was that such a big deal?”
He closes his eyes. “I don’t want to get into it. Please? I want some privacy.”
“The past is the past, Enz, and we’re in the future, and it’s going to be awesome. I promise.”
Enzo smiles, and my gaze drops to his mouth before I can stop it.
I’ve never kissed him. We’ve done everything else, but not that. Kissing is for boyfriends, not... whatever we are.
But perhaps…
I draw back. My heart pounds.
Maybe I’m sleepy. I didn’t sleep well last night. Enzo wasn’t in my bed, and… Well, it’s normal to worry. I feel better when I feel him breathing against me, when I know his body is warming the sheets beside me.
That’s probably a caveman instinct: two people in the cave is better than one. The whole warmth-conservation thing.
Except cavemen bros probably didn’t lie awake wondering what their caveman bro’s lips tasted like.
What would it be like to kiss him? I can’t stop looking at his mouth.
But I can’t pull him close and see what it’s like. Enzo is the man who ghosted me, even though I thought that was something that people did—maybe, not politely—after a couple of so-so app dates, and not after years-long best-friendship.
I move into the kitchen, because looking at Enzo does strange things to my body. I scan the kitchen.
“I’ve forgotten how nice it is here,” I say, looking around.
“She had excellent taste.”
“You must miss her a lot.”
“Do you?”
The intensity of the question catches me off guard. “Sure. She was great, Enzo.”
“And pretty.”
“And pretty,” I agree.
Enzo’s lips are in a straight line, but he nods. His fingers curl into fists, and he marches through a door. I follow him into Luca’s bedroom.
“What do you think he would like us to bring?” Enzo asks.
“As much as we can.”
We find a suitcase in the apartment and pack it full of clothes. I go into Gaby’s bedroom. “Maybe we should bring Luca some sweaters or something.”
“That’s a good idea.”
I open and close Gaby’s drawers, taking things that I think look nice and are unisex enough that an older Luca might even wear them.
We drop the bags on the bus and head to the arena. Enzo hasn’t said a word since we left the cottage. He’s about to play his old team. And I’m starting to think that’s not the only thing troubling him.